Empire of Bones

by Christian Warren Freed

  “Time to go,” Bahr said and snatched the river captain by his collar.

  The smaller Man protested, desperately trying to kick free but Bahr was stronger and had the advantage of having his hands free. He dragged the Man out of the wheelhouse and down the short flight of stairs. Hate-filled eyes stared up at him, the silent curses almost making Bahr laugh.

  “Any last words?” he asked once he reached the side rail.

  Ironfoot ambled up, arms folded across his thickly muscled chest. “What’s this?”

  Bahr paused. “Old trash. Boen, care to do the honors?”

  The Gaimosian grinned savagely and hefted the river Man up over his head.

  “Try to get him close to shore. We wouldn’t want him to drown before his friends can get him out,” Bahr suggested.

  Boen cocked his head nonchalantly and tossed the small Man out into the river. They were still in shallow enough water the river Man wouldn’t drown without a lot of bad luck. The barge had only gone about a hundred meters downriver before others splashed out to rescue him.

  SIX

  Revengeance

  Winter continued to grow colder the later the season became. Weeks of heavy snows hampered even the bravest soul, with rare moments of sun and blue sky. Aurec, newly crowned king of Rogscroft, stood with his hands on his hips, head titled back to enjoy the kiss of sunlight on his chapped face. There were too few tranquil moments in his life of late and he meant to take full advantage when possible. He closed his eyes and daydreamed of a simpler time, one spent in the arms of his love, Maleela.

  They fell in love purely by accident, but then again, what love is intentionally created? Both knew their fathers would never approve. Badron and Stelskor bore a hate going back decades for reasons Aurec’s father never truly understood or accepted. So Aurec and Maleela were forced to live far apart, in entirely different worlds. Aurec struggled with this and finally came up with the idea of rescuing her from her father and building a life together where no one would bother them.

  Life had other plans. The moment he broke into Chadra Keep and stole Maleela was the moment he set events in motion that could not be undone. Delranan and Rogscroft went to war under the false pretense of grief over the slaying of Badron’s only heir. If only the people knew it was Badron’s desire to conquer his neighbor, perhaps they might not have been so eager to call for blood. Badron immediately sent a small commando unit into Rogscroft to steal Maleela back even as he mobilized his vaunted army, the Wolfsreik. Aurec and Maleela’s love would plunge both kingdoms into the misery of war.

  Badron struck swiftly, bringing the full weight of his ten-thousand-man army to bear. They hammered the defenders until they besieged Rogscroft proper. The unexpected happened next. An army of Goblins from the Deadlands to the east marched into Rogscroft, apparently in league with Badron. None of Stelskor’s advisors had any plausible solutions or reasons for the unethical alliance. Not that it mattered. The combined weight of armies broke the walls of Rogscroft and the city fell. King Stelskor was executed and put on display while Badron unleashed his armies on the countryside. Nothing less than total domination was acceptable.

  Cities and villages fell under the crush of Goblins and Wolfsreik. Aurec did everything he could but it would never be enough. He reluctantly became the king of a nearly extinct kingdom. Until he was approached by members of the Wolfsreik staff, that is. General Rolnir was an honorable Man. One who didn’t appreciate being used for murder. His hatred of the Goblins and the way Badron conducted the war led him to act in his best interests. Rolnir abandoned Badron to side with Aurec. Suddenly, Rogscroft stood a chance.

  Aurec smiled appreciatively at the thought of the Goblin main body being crushed by the combined forces of the Wolfsreik and the Rogscroft defenders hidden in the secret village of Grunmarrow just days ago. The war had gone so poorly for him Aurec couldn’t see any bright spots. He knew in his heart that Rogscroft was finished. It was only a matter of time. The impenetrable gloom crushing his spirit lifted when Rolnir suddenly switched sides. There was only so much evil one could take.

  His thoughts shifted to the approaching task. The combined force was in the process of preparing to march on Rogscroft with the intent of taking back the city. Stelskor’s murderers were going to pay for their audacity. Today was the dawn of a new campaign. One that would change the fate of his beloved kingdom, hopefully for the better. He grinned at the sound of boots crunching on fresh snow.

  “Is it that time already?” he asked without looking back.

  Venten came to a halt. The older Man and advisor to the Aurec’s father folded his hands over his lap. His long gray hair hung down past his collar, reminding him how long it had been since he’d been properly groomed. “Yes, sire. The vanguard is prepared to deploy. General Rolnir requests your presence in order to begin.”

  Aurec turned slowly and looked on his old friend. They’d been together since Aurec was a child. There was no he trusted more than Venten. “Remember this day, old friend. Today is the day we take our kingdom back.”

  “A day that will be long remembered if we are successful.” Ever the voice of caution, Venten didn’t want to get his hopes up. Badron was a foul Man with a clearly defined sense of bitterness, and Venten took Stelskor’s death harder than Aurec and often blamed himself.

  Aurec paused. “Of course. There is still much to do before our kingdom is free again, but I can feel the course of things changing, Venten. My father should be here to lead us, not me.”

  “This is not the time for doubt. Your father prepared you well, Aurec. There is no other I would see in command right now than you.”

  Thoughts of his father smiling down on him lightened Aurec’s heart. He believed that the end of the dark times was near and that Rogscroft would be able to rebuild once the winter snows melted. He had to believe. Anything less was akin to surrender. So many had died because of one man’s vanity. Badron was a cancer in need of excising. So much still needed to be done Aurec often felt overwhelmed. Life had been much simpler during the opening stages of the campaign when he led a small battalion worth of brave Men who sacrificed everything for the future of their kingdom. Now came the hour in which he could deliver vengeance for the bodies lying frozen, buried under the snow on forgotten fields. What bitter irony that he now marched with his former enemies--the very same soldiers that had killed his Men.

  “Thank you, Venten, for everything. You have been a friend and voice of reason when I needed it for many years. I am honored to have you by my side,” Aurec said slowly.

  Venten bowed curtly. “The honor is mine. You’ve grown to a fine Man. I pray your reign over Rogscroft is long.”

  Enough said, the pair made their way to the head of the massive army. Aurec had never seen so many soldiers gathered in one place. Close to twenty thousand had answered the call and were ready to march on the capital. Most were Men of the Wolfsreik. He marveled at their professionalism, even after all they’d been through to reach this point. A lesser army would have fractured and slunk away already. Each wore some sort of animal pelt draped over their dulled and dented chest armor. Their helms were lined with wool to keep their heads from freezing. Aurec was in awe of the sight. He secretly wished to have such strength at his command. No one would ever try to conquer his kingdom again.

  Deciding not to waste time on dreams, the king of Rogscroft nodded to some of the Men as he passed. Most of the Wolfsreik merely stared back, still unaware that he was the king of Rogscroft. When he finally made it to his Men, he experienced different emotions. These were the heart of the kingdom: brave Men all that had willingly sacrificed time with their families for the greater good of all. They wore whatever armor they could find. Some of it was taken from fallen Wolfsreik soldiers. Nothing about the five-thousand-man rabble so much as hinted at professionalism. They were the lesser army Aurec feared, but his pride was unequaled. They’d fought and bled for him, for Rogscroft. He owed them more than any Man was capable of providing. Mo
st greeted him with cheers. They waved their weapons and chanted ancient battle cries. Their pride surpassed his.

  Next was the enigmatic Pell Darga. The mountain folk were taciturn, often choosing to stay within their enclaves rather than dealing with lowlanders. Aurec had made friends with their leader, Cuul Ol, almost a year ago and their friendship blossomed into a strategic alliance. He never imagined the diminutive warriors had so much in the way of numbers. Far more primitive than his own people, the Pell stood roughly five feet tall and were lithe. Their dark brown skin blended perfectly with the caves and trees and they had the martial prowess of fearsome predators. He feared them nearly as much as he respected them. Their short spears had proven incredibly effective against the Goblin hordes. The tribal leaders nodded reverently to the newly crowned king. He expected nothing more.

  General Rolnir stood in quiet conference with Cuul Ol at the head of the army while the command staff busied with final preparations nearby. The redheaded man was roughly fifteen years older than Aurec’s twenty and every ounce the warrior. He’d been the commanding general of the Wolfsreik for seven years. Placing honor above loyalty, Rolnir steadily broke away from the depredations Badron concocted. He wasn’t the same king he had been before the night his son was murdered. Rolnir suspected some outside influence over his king but couldn’t prove anything. Regardless, he couldn’t take anymore. The Goblins were the last straw. Every man had limitations. Rolnir reached his.

  He turned and bowed formally. “Your majesty, the army is prepared to move.”

  Aurec flushed, secretly hoping it was covered under his already near frost-burnt cheeks. “Excellent, General Rolnir. I must admit I am thoroughly impressed with the size of our force.”

  “I personally never thought to see such a sight,” Rolnir confirmed. “Wolfsreik, Rogscroft, and Pell Darga working together. What’s left of the Goblin army will fold under our approach. Your kingdom will be returned to you, though I cannot promise the condition in which I pass it off. Badron will not leave easily. I imagine anyone still living in the city will face reprisal.”

  “That is a difficult choice but one I feel needs to be made. Like it or not, I can’t protect everyone from the enemy. All we can do as professionals is minimize the collateral damage amongst the civilian population.” Aurec paused to think about where those words came from. A year ago he never would have talked like that.

  Venten gave him a look of approval and mouthed, “You’ve grown up.”

  “What is your plan?” Aurec asked.

  Rolnir clenched his hand repeatedly, trying to lessen the sudden cramp. “I’m pushing a scouting foray out. Two of yours are in charge, Mahn and Raste, I believe. Their mission is to get as close to the city as possible and report on enemy strength, troop movements, and emplacements. Once we have that intel we’ll know exactly where to strike and how hard. Hopefully we can do this with minimal casualties.”

  “It was my understanding that we virtually destroyed the main Goblin army.”

  Rolnir nodded. “As far as I know we did, but we can’t leave anything to chance. Badron is deranged. He’ll stop at nothing to cement his power over both kingdoms. There could feasibly be a secondary force I don’t have knowledge of.”

  Several of those gathered paused. The implications of his words struck deep. Underestimating the enemy was a cardinal sin for battlefield commanders. New questions sprang to life. What if Badron did have a second army? How strong? Where were they? Aurec’s head swooned as visions of total annihilation arose. He may be king, but he was barely out of his teens. Young men shouldn’t be forced to make such decisions.

  When he spoke, it was slowly. “These are risks we must take. I don’t see any way to avoid it. Is the main body to wait here until the scouts return?”

  “No. Grunmarrow is at the base of the Murdes Mountains. Too far away for us to respond to any threats. I intend to march our army two days east and establish a field camp in the low hills just west of the city. We’ll be able to get to Rogscroft in a day and still have the strength to fight upon arrival. Our biggest concern will be the supply trains keeping up.”

  “Speaking of which,” Venten commented. “I don’t happen to see any wagons.”

  “No. Commander Joach escorted them out before dawn. I don’t need thousands of hungry Men waiting for no reason,” Rolnir said with a smile.

  “Won’t they be at risk?” Aurec asked.

  “I’ve used that same tactic against your Men and others over the course of my career. It works and hastens the timeline considerably. It also boosts morale. Imagine how good it feels to have a hot meal waiting by the time you pull in from a full day’s march. High morale makes better fighters, Aurec, and we need all of the advantages we can get.”

  Cuul Ol, the Pell chieftain, slammed the butt of his short spear on the ice-crusted snow. “This is good. My warriors want to fight. Goblins don’t belong here.”

  No one could have said it better. The Pell Darga clans distinguished themselves during what some now dubbed the Battle of Betrayal. Thousands of Goblins fell under Pell spears and daggers. Now that their blades had been drawn and blooded, the Pell wanted more. All pretense of peacefulness evaporated. Aurec feared for any army that became objects of their ire.

  “Very well. General, you may deploy the army at your discretion,” Aurec said, still smiling at Cuul’s eagerness.

  SEVEN

  Badron’s Madness

  What remained of Rogscroft wasn’t fit to be called a city. Grugnak’s Goblins burned through most of the once proud buildings with ruthless abandon in retribution of their abysmal defeat at the hands of the Wolfsreik. Not even the promise of another fifty thousand Goblins en route was enough to cheer their commander. He authorized, without Badron’s knowledge, the wholesale slaughter of the civilian population. What few Humans remained were hidden deep underground or fled under the cover of darkness.

  Grugnak slowly took control of the city and the surrounding areas. The people suffered. Still he felt no better, took no solace from any measure of viciousness extracted. His army lay dead on the slopes of the Murdes Mountains, already buried under fresh snow. What little power he still held was laughable. Amar Kit’han promised a much larger force but they weren’t Grugnak’s. The relief force was a combination of remnants from the Deadlands and from faraway Gren to the east. Grugnak idly wondered how many Goblins were left in the dark, forgotten places of the world.

  He marched with half a dozen guards to the former throne room of King Stelskor. The once pristine halls were now caked with muck. Several marble tiles were shattered. Piles of refuse choked the corners. Spiders came down to fill the ceilings with cobwebs. There was no glory left in Rogscroft. Grugnak intended to remake the kingdom in his own image. It started with wresting power away from Badron.

  With most of the Human forces abandoning the king in favor of the much liked General Rolnir, Badron stayed locked within the upper levels of the castle. He was fed and seen to. The only real reason Grugnak kept him alive was because he was the figurehead of the entire campaign in the north. No Human would ever submit to the rule of Goblins, at least not willingly. Badron remained important for the foreseeable future.

  “The king doesn’t want visitors,” snarled one of the guards outside the throne room. Larger and physically more powerful, the guard would prove problematic for the shorter Goblin.

  “There is news from the east,” Grugnak replied.

  The guards exchanged cautious looks. Their dislike for the Goblins wore openly as they debated whether or not to admit Grugnak. Finally they relented. “Only you may enter. The others stay out here.”

  Unhappy with the decision, Grugnak resisted the urge to order his warriors to attack and humbly followed instructions. Fires dimly lit the expansive room but provided no warmth. Grugnak frowned. The room was always chill, much to his dislike. Badron preferred it cold and dark, often stopping in mid-conversation to confer with an invisible advisor. Today he sat upon the usurped throne
with his hands in his head.

  Badron was the younger of two sons and never intended to rule Delranan. His father had no choice when Bahr decided to abandon his responsibilities for frivolous adventure. Rumors abounded that he killed his father in order to gain the throne quicker. Badron never bothered giving any definitive answer. What did it matter? He was king and all bent knee to him. His rule was defined by jealousy. Stelskor was an adversary for many decades. Badron wanted everything Rogscroft had: the minerals, the natural resources, and the land. Delranan was too far to the west to be of importance in Malweir. He needed to conquerRogscroft in order to build an empire to rival the rule of mighty Averon in the central south. It was only a matter of time before he invaded. Now, after years of plotting and planning, he sat upon Stelskor’s throne and ruled the declining kingdom with iron.

  “I did not summon you.” Badron’s voice was hollow, void of emotion or curiosity.

  Grugnak choked back the spit filling his mouth. “I have news.”

  Slowly, the king of Delranan lifted his head. His eyes were red. Shadows clung to his face unnaturally, giving him a deathly appearance. “There is always news. Have you come to tell me of the approaching Goblin army?”

  Grugnak paused, not expecting to be trumped. “How did you come by this? I only just found out.”

  Badron laughed wickedly. “Do not think to inflate your importance, Goblin. I know what your warriors whisper when they believe no one is listening. You will never be my equal. Never! I am a lord of Men and no Goblin has claim to dominion. You are here only at my discretion, regardless of what you think.”

  “Fifty thousand Goblins say otherwise,” Grugnak snapped. He briefly considered throttling the demented king but felt that same terrible presence lurking in the shadows. He wasn’t strong enough to battle the Dae’shan. He began to wonder if they offered false promise.